fossils AND sock puppets - It doesnt get much better

Went down to Dorset to see aunty Paul at the weekend. Found some nice fossils on the beach and made sock puppets. There were also a few pints of Badger beer and more food than you could reasonably consume. Gotta be pleased with that.

Warwick, pronounced Warrick

Went with Granny & my nephew & neice to Warwick castle on monday. Its a beautiful castle started in 1068 by willie the conc & added & extended and rebuilt through to the 17 Century.

They have the worlds biggest working trebuchette (although it may be the worlds only working trebuchette) and we had a fun display by some bowmen using long bows of the type that slaughtered the French in the 100 year war. There were also singing plague victims, a goul (who accused me of being smelly) and assorted armour, waxworks of castle life and some very steep narrow and dark spiral stairs which I did not enjoy at all.

The kids then had a go at archery (at tourist prices). Then Mathew saw a bow and arrow in the gift shop (at tourist prices) and proceded to whine for four hours about how much he wanted it. Finally (since they arn't mine & I can't give them the belting they require - spoilt little brats) I finally secumbed & bought them each a bow and arrow. When we got back to Grannies they had a fun fifteen minutes playing with said bows before deciding they'd rather watch cartoons. Ho Hum.

Still, I enjoyed the castle & had fun watching granny turn blue with cold. A smashing day out.

K SA SA

After a fantastically entertaining 3rd place play off on Friday night between Argentina & France (and far too much beer) Saturday saw the world cup final. (and far, far, to much beer) And the Boks won it well. But England played well, forced the Boks into a type of rugby they don’t really like & pushed them close. Never the less the best team won (and I still agree with the 4th official – that was not an England try). So Congratulations South Africa. Deservedly world champions. But well done England.

puttin on the agony

I am trying to eat a little healthier. Trying to avoid the take-aways. But last night I indulged in fish and chips. And almost immediately a huge spot formed on my shoulder. So before I went to bed I gave it a squeeze. After a volcanic explosion that made Pompeii look like a medium small firecracker I was left with a bloody crater. So, to protect my sheets I decide to put a plaster on it.

Did you see that. 'To protect my sheets'. That’s age. Its not the belly, or the grey in the beard. Its when you worry about your sheets. So sad.

Anyway. I attempt to remove a plaster from its packaging. And it sticks to itself. Much swearing. On the second attempt I succeed & stick the plaster over the weeping hole in my shoulder. The third attempt is also successful. Ha, I have mastered the plasters. The thing is, I didn’t need a third attempt. Now this may be senility, or this may be beer. Which ever, I now have a spare plaster ready to go. It would be a shame to waste it so, of course, I stick it across the bridge of my nose. As you do.

I wake in the night. I am of an age where I can no longer drink several pints and go an entire night without a pee. On good nights I wake up. Note to self: If you dream your peeing, your peeing. So, half asleep I go to the toilet. And in the mirror I see I have a plaster across my nose. Have I been fighting? It seems unlikely. I fight like a damp blanket so any violence normally ends up with me getting a good kicking and spending an evening in the A&E. I am older and wiser. I haven’t been in a punch up for many years. Hmm. Perhaps I fell over. Seems more likely. And thinking about it, my shoulder and my knee also hurt. Ok, so whenever I think about it my shoulder and knee hurt. I’m old and knackered.

So I lie half awake, trying to remember. I was in the pub with the lads. No Hobson’s (AGAIN!!!) so I was grumpy. But not unusually so. And not very drunk. I left. I got fish and chips (two pickled onions, small beans £4.50. mmmm). Walked up the hill. I’m fairly sure without incident. Ate. Showered. Went to bed. No nose damage incident. From three till five I lie in bed fingering the plaster on my nose wondering what I have done. Worrying. Unable to sleep.

Of course, with the morning comes sanity. And relief. Followed by general grouchy-ness caused by lack of sleep & resentment at my own stupidity.

Bang, Bang

It wasn’t pretty or clever. It wasn’t the beautiful game that rugby can be. This was two sides in an ugly, desperate slugfest. I could hardly bare the pressure. Its only a game, I kept telling myself. Only a game. Yeah., right. I watched it alone at chez rich. I couldn’t have watched it with anyone. I paced, I screamed. When Johnny elected to kick hugely long at goal rather than a sensible touch and then missed I drop kicked a cactus in ceramic pot in my rage.

And, as much by luck as judgment a brave and gritty England squeezed a win against the equally dogged French. It really could have gone either way. So, did the French whine about the referee? Their luck? The cheating English? No, having just gone out of the world cup France captain Raphael Ibanez said “England deserved to win and they took their chances when it mattered”.

How you lose is as important as how you win. Respect to France. Whining Kiwi’s listen and learn.

And afterwards (and before, and during) there was beer. Too much beer. Next week against all odds England are in the world cup final. I’m not sure I can stand the strain.

Good manners cost nothing.

Just doing what I'm payed to do.
But isnt it nice when someone says thank you.
quite made my day.

wide load

So, the customer is having a few performance issues.
Rich (oh, thats me) can you go over to the customer and take some performance timings. (no question mark? uh, one of THOSE questions).
Well, erm, ok. Ever happy to oblige. But the complaints are pretty much design issues or antique PC problems.
Yes. We know. But we need to be seen to care. So buy a stopwatch. Shave. Put on a suite and go and be nice to the customer.
erm. Why me? Because you got in late and weren't in the meeting where we decided who had to go.

Fair cop. So I come home. Fish a suit or two out of the depths. And none do up around my waiste. Aint it terrible how things shrink. Lets hope there's a Marks & Spencers open early in Northampton.

wot? no Hobsons?

Last night was strange. Sitting in the Crown drinking Hobsons and listening to the ravings of loons is usually a pleasant way to spend an evening. But, alas and alack. There was no Hobsons. Just sorry left overs from the recently departed beer festival. And the loons were out in force and raving like it was a full moon. I couldn’t stand it. I left early. I ‘gasp’ drank elsewhere.

yes ..... YES YES YES

Southern hemisphere rugby? Kiss my sweaty arse !!!

Radar Love

Thirteen thousand pound solid gold lingerie

well, you would, wouldn't you ?

What a weekend of Rugby that was.

England were adequate against Tonga. Clever enough to force Tonga into a game style they don’t like to much. But I don’t see the Ozzies quaking in their boots right now. Then there was Wales –Fiji. What a game. I felt battered just watching. Wales coming back from 25-3 down to take the lead. Only to then lose the plot, and the Game to mighty Fiji. There will be some sore Fijian heads tomorrow. And South Africa have not breezed to victory against the other pacific Islanders. One to watch.

Then Ireland, with a near impossible task (score four tries & win by at least eight points) threw the kitchen sink at mighty Argentina. And, after moments when you thought they might pull it off, were soundly spanked by Argentina. Who then celebrated their wonderful victory by dancing round the pitch in a manner best describes as distinctly gay. (not as in happy, either). So Argentina win the group and go on to face Scotland. Who should be worried.

And France, by coming second in the group face the dreaded All Blacks in, wait for it, Cardiff. Boy the decision to flog off matches outside France has bitten them hard. In a way it’s a shame. France at home might have been serious contenders against New Zealand. But at a millennium stadium full of Kiwi’s & Micks? Goodbye France.

So I shall spend the week laughing at all the Frenchmen who, fully expecting France to win their group, have bought tickets for what turns out to be Argentina – Scotland.
And next weekend all four quarter finals look a bit tasty. I just hope my liver can cope.